


A family for Yule

by Seth_Lecter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 14:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seth_Lecter/pseuds/Seth_Lecter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dwalin and Thorin discover a lone hobbitling in a village north of Bree being abused, they decide to make sure the child is freed and brought back to where he belongs or take him in if it comes to that.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [30 Days AU Challenge 'The Hobbit' verse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/911067) by [Seth_Lecter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seth_Lecter/pseuds/Seth_Lecter). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Thorin discover a lone hobbitling in a village north of Bree being abused, they decide to make sure the child is freed and brought back to where he belongs or take him in if it comes to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I will be changing my pseudo here. Which means that all 'author subscribers' will have to subscribe again if they want to be kept up to date with the stories I post. I'm not simply creating another pseud, but changing the one I currently have. So I will be going from Seth_Krane to Seth_Lecter. I will be changing it once this chapter is updated, so it is why I'm telling you all. :)  
> EDIT: Actually, ignore me. It seems that the change of username like I did only affect outside links and bookmarks and nothing else... No you shouldn't be affected by my changing names. Yay!  
> (though I'm quite sure that last time I checked, I saw the problem about author subscriptions... but seems I must have imagined it)

Thorin and Dwalin had been traveling back from Ered Nimrais in the hope of arriving to Ered Luin before Yule, when they came across what would change the path their lives had taken.

It was the beginning of November when they arrived, travel weary, in Archet and they were eager to have a long awaited night in the inn, before going to Bree then continuing on towards the Grey Havens and finally arriving home.

Though close to Bree, Archet was a Man populated village, as opposed to Staddle, south east of Bree, where most of the Hobbits from Bree-land gathered. Thorin and Dwalin were actually eager to arrive in Bree then go through the Shire, because it meant that they would be able to find rooms in inns that had beds and other furniture that were their size instead of three times too big. To be honest, Dwalin also looked forward to going through the Shire and being away from Men, because it meant that he wouldn’t have to hide his relationship with Thorin. Hobbits were remarkably open about it and had even smiled wider when both of them had asked for a room with one double bed instead of one with two singles. They might be creatures of comforts and know nothing about war and combat, and they might be suspicious about outsiders, but there was something to be said about Hobbits’ hospitality and cooking. Yes, especially their cooking. Thorin had nearly had to drag him out when they had passed through on their way away from home two seasons ago. Dwalin hadn’t ever had pies that good. And the biscuits! He wondered if the hobbit-lass that had made them would be open to make him a special batch for the road when they stopped there next…

Dwalin was thrown out of his food-themed daydream by a well placed elbow to his ribs. He turned to see why Thorin had felt the need to disturb him from such important thoughts, only to find Thorin staring. Following his gaze, Dwalin frowned at what he saw, then growled deep in his throat when he understood what it was exactly he was seeing.

There was a house bigger than the others, with a front yard in which quite a few children from different ages were running about, playing and laughing. And on the little path, leading from the road to the entrance, was one of the smallest child Dwalin had seen in a long time. It was scrubbing away, clothed only in what could be called rags and little else. It was then the Dwalin realised that the child was not a human child but a fauntling. Though its ears were hidden under a mop of curly auburn hair, its strangely too big and furry feet made it clear that the child did not belong there. The more Dwalin observed and the more he saw that the child was not like the others, in more way that just his race. Though he couldn’t hear the exact words, he could hear the tone, and what the other children said to the child when they even remembered its presence was only taunting and mockery.

He was interrupted, yet again, when an almighty roar was heard through the house.

‘Halfling!’

Dwalin saw the child flinch violently, and scamper as quick as its legs could towards the door, while at the same time lifting what seemed like a heavy bucket full of dirty water. It looked like the hobbitling wasn’t fast enough to the taste of the burly man the voice had belonged to, when he appeared on the porch, face twisted in a grimace, and bore onto the child, grabbing the scruff of its neck and throwing the fauntling inside, the bucket left slipped and forgotten on the lawn.

‘When I call you for you, halfling, you come. Now to the kitchen, you have chores to do!’

The only thing that stopped Dwalin from charging inside right away and giving the man a taste of dwarven iron, was the steady hand of Thorin on his forearm.

‘Not now, Dwalin. It would serve no one’s purpose to go charging in.’

‘We cannae leave the child there, Thorin!’

‘And we won’t. I promise you. Let’s find the inn and ask around. I’m sure they’ll have some information for us, even if we have to be more generous with them in ale than we’d want to be, given the circumstances.’

Dwalin grunted in agreement, but Thorin still had to nearly bodily remove him from where he’d been standing and to do as his One had suggested.

 

Though still at the beginning of November, the inn they stopped at was already decked in all sorts of festive decorations, and both Dwalin and Thorin had to hold back loud snorts. Dwarrows liked Yule seasons as much as any other race, if not more so, but decorating only started in December at the earliest, though most waited until the twelve days of Yule. Still, if there was one thing to say about the men’s tradition, it was mistletoe. Though Dwalin had to be discreet, surprising Thorin with a kiss under it was always a pleasure (and a good laugh because of how flustered Thorin always got).

They obtained a room easily and went to put their bags down before going back down to the tavern and ordering both food and ale.

It wasn’t long before their bellies were full and they had a steady group of men taking advantage of a few free ales, and letting their tongues wag to their hearts content.

It was how the dwarrows learned that the child hobbit was indeed a lad, though no one knew his name, and that he’d been in the orphanage for a year. A shrewd-looking hobbit lady had dropped him off in a huff and turned heel without an explanation, never to be seen again.

At least, that was what they managed to gather between all the derogatory comments about the lad, which had to test both of their patience.

It was late in the evening when they finally decided that they’d had enough and went back to their rented room.

Dwalin sat down heavily on the closest bed, putting his head in his hands and sighing. He felt the bed dip as Thorin sat down next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

‘Don’t worry. We’ll get the lad out of there. Bring him back in the Shire.’

‘It’s one of his own that brought him here in the first place!’

Dwalin’s outburst was to be expected. Children were important for dwarrows, more so than even their gems and jewels and gold, so rare where they. For anyone to lift a hand on a child was, though not unheard of, not tolerated. Nor did they have orphanages. If a child had the bad luck to lose both parents, there was always family or friends to take in the child and bring them up as their own. Dwalin had come to understand that children, though much more present in the Shire, were just as precious for hobbits as they were for dwarrows. Yet, if the men were to be believed, it was a hobbit who had brought the child here, to be all but forgotten about.

‘We don’t know all the story. It’s one hobbit. Maybe the others don’t know about it.’

‘And if they do? Or if they didn’t but won’t take the lad in? We cannae leave him there to be forgotten again, and most probably sent back here.’

‘Then we take him with us.’

‘Aye. We have only two options to take him out of here in the first place though. Either we’ll have to pay for him, or we’ll have to smuggle him out. And it hurts to think that we’d have to pay to get the lad out of this shit, Thorin.’

‘We quietly take him out then. I doubt they’ll be concerned about him to make a fuss or come after us.’

Dwalin grunted in agreement and flopped down on the bed completely, Thorin laid down next to him, their fingers entwining together.

‘We’ll have a look around tomorrow, see if we can get the lad to speak with us, see if he want’s our help. We should be able to get him out tomorrow night.’

‘If we walk all night, we’ll be in Bree before sun-up, the hobbits there might help us get the lad where he belongs.’

Staring at the sealing, Dwalin snorted when he realised there was some mistletoe hung up in the room. Turning on his side to face Thorin, he smiled at his One and bent down to kiss him.

He might not get any sleep tonight, too anxious to get the lad to safety, but there wasn’t any reason to not, at least, get his mind to rest a little in the pleasure that he could have and share with Thorin.

And if Thorin asked, he could always blame the men and their traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello! It's been a long time, hasn't it? I hope you all had happy holidays!  
> So, this is a continuation/adaptation of the chapter 28 Orphanage from my 30 Days AU Challenge story. You don't need to have read that chapter at all, as I'm starting from the beginning. Also chapters titles are the prompts that were given for the hobbit advent event on tumblr. I didn't participate, but the prompt words inspired me (belatedly) so I'm keeping them.  
> I've only the first chapter written, but I know where I'm going with this and it shouldn't me too long to have this completed, have no fear.  
> I hope you like it.  
> Like always, this was not beta-ed.


	2. Gingerbread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin and Thorin meet Bilbo and there is a little misunderstanding.

Dwalin was the first to wake, limbs entangled with Thorins, comfortable squeezed tight against him, in the single human sized bed, that was just still a tight fit for two burly dwarrows.

Then again, thought Dwalin, even in a dwarf sized double bed, the both of them always found themselves joined at the hip come morning.

Gently, Dwalin untangled himself from Thorin, making sure to let the kingdom-less king catch up on some much needed sleep.

Having a wash at the wash stand in a corner of the room, Dwalin thought about what he could do next. He was still thinking while he got dressed and messed up the unused bed.

Once downstairs, Dwalin took a hearty breakfast of ale, bread and cold meat. He was looking at the bottom of his tankard when the distinctive smell of gingerbread wafted through the back door the maid had just opened.

Dwalin perked up as an idea formed into his mind. Without waiting for Thorin, he put his plan into action and then headed out.

 

Nearing the orphanage once more, Dwalin slowed his pace. Looking around, he saw a bench just a few paces on the side, opposite his target.

Sitting down, Dwalin lit his pipe filled with Longbottom, and proceeded to observe as he savoured his twice-daily smoke.

Dwalin would have liked to say it was a surprise, but it wasn’t one to find the little hobbitling was already out and about, raking leaves off the front lawn.

The lad was frowning as he handled the much-too-big-for-him rake, struggling to get anything done properly and Dwalin could see him grumbling under his breath, and though he couldn’t hear and hobbit were usually gentle creatures, Dwalin was quite sure that the lad had quite a few colourful slurs to throw the mens way. Trying to imagine what the lad was saying had Dwalin chuckle quite loudly, causing the lad to turn his way.

 

Bilbo had never seen a dwarf before, but there was no mistaking what the man sitting on the bench was.

He tried to go back to his morning chore, but Bilbo couldn’t help his gaze returning back to the burly dwarf, again and again. He seemed, to Bilbo, like a bear, and though intimidating, he didn’t seem frightening, he even had what seemed like a smile, hidden underneath his beard. At least he thought it was a he… He remembered his mother once telling him that dwarrowdams had beards too. Well that wasn’t practical, Bilbo had to admit. How ever was he to know how to address the dwarf now! Not that there would be any addressing to start with. It wasn’t like he was free to do was he wanted to.

Bilbo was so distracted by his thought that he didn’t realise that he’d let the rake drop on the ground and had come closer to the dwarf, leaning against the fence surrounding the house, until he heard the dwarf calling for him.

‘Curious for a story, lad?’

Bilbo started at the growl-like voice that rumbled out of the dwarf he’d been mostly rudely staring at.

Biting his lip, Bilbo looked around him, nearly certain that one of the adults would jump out from a hiding place and tan his hide for slouching on his chores. When nothing happened, he looked back at the dwarf and nodded slowly.

 

Dwalin grinned when he saw the lad nod and waved him over, patting the empty place in the bench next to him.

As the boy approached him cautiously, Dwalin had to stop cringing and growling menacingly as the abuse the boy had went through became clearer and clearer.

The lad was still biting his lip as he arrived in front of Dwalin, though the dwarf could see that he was now suppressing a grin. The fauntling eyed the bench and frowned, prompting Dwalin to help him on, making the lad squeak in surprise and glare up at the dwarf, muttering about bad manners, or lack thereof.

Dwalin chuckled once more and ruffled the lad’s hair.

‘Dwalin, son of Fundin, at yer service, lad’ he says once his laugh has died down.

‘Bilbo Baggins, at yours.’

It’s barely a murmur, but there is a smile on the lad’s lips, and Dwalin counts that as a victory, for he has a feeling that the boy--Bilbo doesn’t smile often.

‘I got some slices of gingerbread with butter from the inn, for a bit of a snack. Would you like some?’

Dwalin held back a grin as he saw Bilbo’s eyes light up with delight, but not a moment later, the lad’s shoulder dropped and he shook his head, biting his lip.

‘It’s yours, Master Dwalin, wouldn’t want to take the treat away from you.’

Dwalin shook his head. ‘Nah. I’ve had a big breakfast, and the cook was very generous in her servings, I wouldn’t be able to finish it, and what a waste it would be!’

Dwalin took the parcel the cook had made for him from one of his multiple pockets and opened it on his lap. Cutting one of the slices in two, Dwalin made sure to give the bigger part to the boy sitting next to him.

‘Here ye go. Eat up.’

Though still slightly hesitant, Dwalin could see that hunger was winning and grinned happily when Bilbo finally took the slice and brought it to his mouth to take a bit.

Dwalin had never seen someone eat so quickly and still seem to savour what they were eating, and he gave the second and last slice to the boy in it’s entirety, make a show of still eating the small piece he’d taken for himself so the lad wouldn’t argue.

‘Thank you, Master Dwalin.’

Dwalin hummed in acknowledgment, with a smile tugging under his beard. He was just going to ask the lad what kind of story he would like to hear, when he was interrupted by a sharp call if his name.

In his peripheral view, he saw the lad jump in alarm, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, murmuring at him that he didn’t have to worry.

Turning around in the direction the call had come from, he waved at a slightly ruffled looking Thorin.

‘Fell out of bed, this morning, âzyungâl?’ He said with a grin.

Thorin grumbled under his beard and stopped stomping in front of him, only then noticing the little fauntling sitting, wide eyed, next to Dwalin.

‘Thorin, meet Bilbo. Was just going to share in a story with the lad.’

Thorin’s face instantly soften and a smile crinkled at the corner of his eyes. With a bow, he introduced himself.

‘Thorin, son of Thrain, at your service, Master Bilbo.’

Much to both dwarrows’ delight, the lad giggled and grinned up at Thorin.

Indicating the empty space on the other side of the hobbit child, Thorin asked if he could sit, for he too wanted to hear a story. Still grinning, Bilbo enthusiastically nodded, copying Dwalin by patting the space beside him.

Thorin sat down with a smile and looked at Dwalin over Bilbo’s head, grinning like a fool.

 

Bilbo had never met any dwarrows, let alone two in one go. Master Dwalin, looked even more like a bear up close than he had from across the road. He seemed tall for a dwarf, and so muscular that Bilbo didn’t think it a good idea to get on his bad side, especially if he wielded his warhammer with the expertise dwarrows were reputed to. His dark brown beard was short, and to Bilbo looked more like impressive mustache and muttonchops. What intrigued him was that though the hair at the back of Master Dwalin’s head was long, the one at the top of it was shaved on the sides and he had an impressive line of hair in the middle. He’d always thought dwarves didn’t shave their hair. What struck his curiosity the most was the tattoos and piercings he could see. Though men sometimes had tattoos too, he’d never seen anything like it and to his limited knowledge, only lasses wore earrings, though Mister Dwalin didn’t wear anything as girly as what he’d seen the ladies in Hobbiton or Bree wear.

Master Thorin, though had his black beard shorn short and long flowing hair braided on the sides, he seemed almost delicate compared to the bear that dubbed as his companion.

Bilbo wondered if they were a couple. Though back in the Shire same gender couple weren’t seen as a problem, he knew that amongst men it was seen as unnatural. He wondered to which line of thought the dwarrows were more likely to adhere to. And if the stories where true, dwarrowdams had beards and travelled as male.

Looking between the two dwarrows surrounding him, his curiosity got the better of him.

‘Are you a dwarrowdam?’ He asked, facing Master Thorin.

 

There was a moment of silence after they heard the lad’s question, and when the reality of it hit Dwalin, he couldn’t stop the guffaw that escaped his mouth.

Thorin’s face had been priceless; shock, outraged, embarrassment and a little bit of amusement all mixed in one, a blush on his cheeks.

Thorin crossed his arms and huffed, affronted that his lover would make fun of him, and that only made him laugh harder. But then Dwalin noticed the lad, and that made him stop laughing. Bilbo had hunched his shoulders, head down, his face seemed to be burning in embarrassment and he was biting his lips, eyes squeezed shut.

Dwalin put a gentle hand on the lad’s shoulder and kicked Thorin in the shine to make him pay attention.

‘Don’t worry lad, it’s okay. We’re not cross with you for assuming that Thorin here was a lass.’

At Dwalin’s fierce look in his direction, Thorin hummed in agreement and gently squeezed the lad’s other shoulder.

‘I’m not angry Bilbo, I was surprised. It must be the first time I’ve ever been asked that question.’

Dwalin snorted and bumped his shoulder gently against the child’s.

They stayed silent for a while, and when Bilbo’s voice was heard again, it was quiet and shy.

‘I’m sorry for asking if you were a lady, Master Thorin. But I’ve never seen dwarrows, you see. And I’ve heard stories and I’m always told I’m too curious for my own good...’

Both Thorin and Dwalin chuckled lightly at that, they could very well imagine what kind of trouble the lad would get in, curious as he seemed. Though recalling the boy’s situation sobered them quickly, for the trouble he would get in there wouldn’t be any fun at all.

‘Lad, it’s fine. We weren’t insulted when you asked. But no, Thorin here, for all that he can be a drama queen, isn’t a lady.’

Thorin harumphed and hit Dwalin in the arm, as Dwalin grinned over at him, and both where rewarded when they heard the boy giggle between them.

The lad quieted down after that, and let out a sigh.

‘I have to go back. They’ll start coming out, and I’ll get in trouble if they see I haven’t been doing my work.’

Dwalin frowned down at the boy then back at the house they were sitting in front of.

‘Maybe we could help?’

‘Thank you, Master Thorin, but if they catch you at it, I’ll only get in more trouble, and I don’t fancy sleeping in the dog shed.’

Dwalin saw Thorin’s jaw tighten.

‘And where do ye sleep, lad?’ he asked.

‘Oh. Well. Um. In the kitchen, there’s a little closet they made for me with a bed, and it’s warm there because of the wood burner, and that way I don’t wake anyone when I get up to do my chores.’

Dwalin closed his eyes and sighed deeply, trying, and mostly failing, to not show how angry he was as he heard Bilbo talk.

‘Is there a door to outside in there?’

‘Of course! That’s how I go in and out when no one is awake. It leads to the back garden and there’s a path to the side of the house that links both front and back.’

Thorin hummed thoughtfully.

Bilbo didn’t wait any more before hopping down the bench and turning to face them. With a brilliant toothy smile, Bilbo bowed to them.

‘It was very nice to make your ac- acquaintance, Master Dwarves. Have a good day!’

And then the lad was scampering off, back to the yard, the rake and the leaves.

Dwalin and Thorin stayed a little longer, observing the fauntling before they too, stood and went back to the inn.

After all, they had plans to prepare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, longer chapter.  
> I haven't read through it yet, because I wanted it posted today, but I'll go through it later. If you see any mistakes, do point them out. ;)
> 
> Also, here I used the gingerbread not as the gingerbread men, but the recipe used for it to be like your usual loaf of bread. I was thinking of the French and Belgian 'pain d'epice' that I ate when I was younger and visiting my grand-parents.  
> I'd like to point out too, that though 'Ones' have been mentioned, I'm not talking about soulmates. It's just a name dwarrows use when they talk about the person they've decided to spend the rest of their lives with.
> 
> Hope you like this chapter!  
> I was going to have Bilbo out of the orphanage in this one, but it was going to be way too long if I did that, so it's for the next one.
> 
> EDIT: I nearly forgot: Thank you soooooo much for all the kudos, bookmarks, subscriptions and comments. I admit being surprised that this story got such a reception. So really, thank you. :)


	3. Mulled wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is some burglaring going on!

That evening found Dwalin and Thorin at the tavern slowly but surely getting Bjorven drunk.

They had discovered during the day that Bjorven was the one that lorded over the orphanage, his wife staying to keep an eye on the children while he was out and about in town.

Thorin had struck up a conversation with the man, even as Dwalin stayed a mostly silent presence at his side, under the false pretext of wondering if a man of such importance would need any dwarven locks or other metal work, as they were staying in town for a while.

Dwalin had wondered idly if it was the fact that Thorin had been born a prince and a politician that he was able to lie to a man such as Bjorven with a straight face. Then again, as it was all in the hopes of getting the lad out of that hell hole, he supposed that there wasn't a nobler reason for such bold faced lies.

They had discussed of many things, including the layout of the orphanage, in the guise of wanting to know what kind of locks would be needed, while at the same time buying as much ale and mulled wine as the man was willing to accept, which was quite a lot. It seems that as long as he wasn't paying, his thirst was unquenchable. Not that Dwalin was surprised, on the contrary, they had been counting on it.

Thorin had been surprised that the beverage was so popular at this season amongst Men. They had both tasted it, but it had not been to their taste. Dwarven mulled wine was something to behold, a lot stronger than what was little more than cheap wine, sugar and little spice. He wondered if Hobbit have this tradition too, and if so, if their ancestral recipe is in any way better than the Men's. Dwalin snorts. Of course it would be. You can't beat a Hobbit in the kitchen. Bombur's cooking, back in the Ered Luin, might be unbeatable amongst Dwarrows, but it doesn't hold a candle to what the Hobbit's are capable of.

After their first cup, both Dwalin and Thorin keep to the ale. Though weaker than anything dwarven, it is much more palatable that any other drink available here.

It is already late in the night when they leave Bjorven to stumble back to his home, both dwarves going back to their room, pretending to be retiring for the night.

They wait for two hours, waiting for the tavern to close and everyone to go back to their homes and go to sleep, before they silently gather their things and proceed to leave unnoticed.

All is quiet when they arrive in front of the orphanage.

They make their way around the house through the garden, staying to the shadows and trying, as much as any dwarrows can, to move silently.

When Thorin and Dwalin make it to the back door leading to the kitchen, they are surprised to see a lone candle still burning and a hobbiltling busy tiredly peeling carrots and potatoes.

It is Dwalin that gently knocks on the door's window to bring the hobbit's attention to them.

 

Bilbo is surprised when he hears a gentle knocking from the direction of the back door. And when he looks that way, he can do nothing but look owlishly at the two dwarrows staring back at him.

Still, he is quick to get down from his little stool and hurry to the door and open it to let both dwarves inside.

'What are you doing here?' he whispered. 'You'll get yourselves killed if the master catched you here!'

Dwalin lets out a quiet chuckle and ruffles the boy's hair. 'We're here to get you out, lad. Burglaring you out from under their noses.'

Bilbo frowned up at the dwarrows in front of him, biting his bottom lip. 'Are you going to bring me back to Aunt Lobelia?'

'Is she the one that brought you here?'

Bilbo only nodded, shuffling quietly from side to side, hands scrunching his tattered tunic.

'Then no. We won't let her near you. But come with us. Either we'll leave you in the Shire or you can decide to come with us to Ered Luin, if there isn't a good family yo look after you in your homeland.'

'Either way, lad, we best hurry. We might've gotten the big oaf drunk, but better safe than sorry and be long gone when they realise you're not there anymore.'

Bilbo looked around dark kitchen before nodding, determined. Anywhere was better than here.

So he simply blew the candle out and turned to the dwarrows waiting for him. The bear of a dwarf offered him a hand and Bilbo didn't hesitate in taking it, smiling up at the dwarf when he gave him a reassuring squeeze.

'Do you have anything you want to take with you?'

Bilbo shook his head. 'I only have the clothe I'm wearing now.'

The dwarf he had mistakenly taken for a dwarrowdam frowned at that, but otherwise didn't say a word, waving at them to get a move on.

The little group of two dwarrows and one fauntling made good their escape, disappearing into the night.

  
And if after that Dwalin thought that he'd have to, begrudgingly, admire a certain star-heared dwarf for his ability to move unnoticed in the shadows, then no one was any the wiser, and he certainly wouldn't be the one to illuminate them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hullo! *waves sheepishly* Long time no see, aye?  
> Sorry, but RL took a turn, so I don't really have as much time. I've relocated, I'm trying to find a job, the internet where I'm staying is shitty at best, and my finances are sparse so I can't really afford to go to a Starbucks all the much to update.  
> My computer being a Chromebook, without internet I can't do much at all (and that includes writing, since I use Google docs and it doesn't work online, even when they say it should *grumbles*), so all that explains why I haven't been writing and posting.  
> But, yay! New chapter (on the short side).  
> I haven't re-read it and I'm not completely satisfied with it. I WILL go back through it once I'm settled and have my peace of mind, but it won't change all that much maybe just a few additions here and there to make it longer. Which is why I'm not bothered with giving it to you now.  
> The tenses might be a bit wonky, I apologize in advance.  
> I've the next chapter written too, and I'm scheduling it to appear in the next few days, though the same warnings as for this one apply for it too.  
> I have the beginnings of the chapter after next too, though it's not finished and it will be a long one than this one and the next.  
> There won't be any author notes for next chapter. But I hope you enjoy this one and the next, even with their subpar quality.


	4. Snowfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow is really unpractical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I was sure I could schedule a chapter to appear in the future, but as it happens, I can't. So, here. Have the other chapter I wrote. (yes, I know, it's very short)   
> You'll just have to wait more than I thought for another chapter. Enjoy. ;)

It hadn't taken long on their way out for exhaustion to catch up on poor little Bilbo. Dwalin had scooped him up, bundled him in his cloak, smiling down when the fauntling had immediately fallen asleep, burrowing in the heat the burly dwarf exuded.

 

Thorin and he had talked quietly of what they would do once they reached Bree, agreeing that it was unlikely for the men from Archet to come after them, thus making it safe for them to pass the day and the next night in Bree, giving a change to the little hobbitling to rest in a proper bed and with hearty food, before starting off towards the Shire.

 

The three of them had nearly made it to Bree when the first snowfall came. Snowflakes falling gently on the two (and a half) figures walking down the road. Dwalin only tugged his hood and made sure his cloak covered the lad properly. It wouldn't do for the boy to catch a cold now.

 

Thorin was glad when, nearing dawn, he could finally see the outskirts of Bree. The snow had started to fall heavier and heavier, making it difficult to walk without fear of falling or dropping the lad. He was anxious to get Bilbo in the warmth of the next inn, though he knew Dwalin's cloak was warm, and Dwalin sharing his body heat, he knew that Hobbits had a more fragile health, especially when they were undernourished and not clothed properly.

Frowning, he thinks that he will have to find some clothes for the boy during the day. Though the road to the Shire wouldn't be long, if the weather continued like this, it would be imperative for Bilbo to be covered properly.

 

They were nearing the inn when Dwalin felt the boy stir. He was surprised, having thought the boy would sleep well into the day, as he had only had a few hours of rest. Looking down, he saw the boy blink several times before grinning up at him, rearranging himself so that he had his little arms wrapped around Dwalin's neck, resting gently on the dwarf's hip. Dwalin made sure that he was still covered properly before grinning back.

'Master Dwalin!' He whispered. 'So it wasn't a dream?'

Dwalin could do nothing else but smile gently at him and squeeze him more tightly against his side. 'Indeed not, lad. We are in Bree already. We'll be spending today at the inn, and depart for the Shire tomorrow.'

 

Bilbo looked around him, noticing for the first time that they were indeed in town, gently waking up. It was then that he realised that it was snowing, and that it had been the case for some time, if the state of the world around him was any indication. Everything was white and thick and the world seemed more quiet.

'The first snow of the season, Master Dwalin!'

'Aye, lad. But I'm afraid I can't let you go play in it yet. You aren't dressed for such weather and it would be a pity for you to fall ill.'

Bilbo frowned but nodded, before poking his head out of the protection of the dwarf's cloak and opening his mouth while sticking his tongue out, trying to catch snowflakes.

He heard both dwarrows chuckle at his enthusiasm and felt a heavy hand ruffle his hair.

'Don't you want to sleep a little more, Bilbo?'

'Oh, I couldn't Master Thorin! It's the first snowfall!'

Bilbo couldn't hold his excitement, though he tried to calm himself down, knowing he was nearly bouncing in the bear-dwarf's arms, and he didn't want to be even more of a burden for Master Dwalin.

  
Dwalin shot an amused look at his One, glad to see the lad had such good spirits, hoping it would last.


	5. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Ghosts of Christmas past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst ahead!  
> So sorry. I couldn't stop myself. Literally, even when I wanted to make it better, angst kept coming. So have nearly 2500 words of angst.  
> At least it's a longer chapter than the last two?

They were lucky they did not have to wait in the cold for the inn to open. The innkeeper was busy, getting the front room ready, when they knocked at the door and the man hurried to get them inside once he saw they had a child with them.

Dwalin kept Bilbo against him, glad the lad wasn't wiggling to be let down. Though he would be happy for the boy to go run around, he knew that the innkeeper would start asking questions if he saw the state of the boy at the moment.

The man was more than happy to give then a hobbit-sized room and to make one of his lads bring up a hearty breakfast for the three of them.

Thorin and Dwalin both thanked him before taking the key and starting upstairs, Bilbo twisting in Dwalin's arms to grin and wave at the innkeeper. Leaving the man to chuckle after them.

Once they were in their room, Dwalin put Bilbo down, the lad directly running to the window to look outside. Thorin went to get the fire started and Dwalin put away their bags.

It wasn't long before there was a knock on the door and a sleepy looking teen left them with a tray full of warm food. Thorin went to put the tray on the single table in the room, calling Bilbo to come and eat.

Both dwarrows sat down at the two chairs on each side of the table and a wide-eyed Bilbo climbed up Dwalin's lap so he could reach what was on the table.

Thorin proceeded to make plates for the three of them, first putting a plate in front of Bilbo, then his One, before letting himself have the last one, as Dwalin served them all a cup of warm tea.

Dwalin was nearly halfway through his plate when he realised that Bilbo hadn't touched his food.

'Bilbo?'

The lad blinked up at him, chewing on his bottom lip. 'May I eat?'

Dwalin was dumbfounded for a moment before he nodded. 'Of course, Bilbo. Eat up, it's better when it's warm. Though you don't have to finish the whole plate if you don't want to, no reason to make yourself sick.'

Bilbo looked back down at the plate, frowning. 'All the food on the plate is for me?'

'Yes.'

'And I can do what I want with it.'

'Sure. Though maybe not throwing it on the floor or in Thorin's hair...'

Bilbo looked up at Dwalin, positively scandalised. 'I wouldn't waste food!'

Thorin smiled and shook his head. 'We know, Bilbo. That oaf you're sitting on was only joking. Poorly, I'll grant you, but joking nonetheless.

Bilbo grinned up at Thorin before slowly starting to eat the food on his plate.

It was clear to both dwarrows that the lad was savouring it as much as he could, reminding them that it was probably the most food the lad had had, in one setting, in a very long time.

Thorin was drinking the last of his tea when he frowned at Bilbo perplexedly. 'Bilbo, my lad, what are you doing?'

Bilbo looked up at him slowly, with such fear in his eyes that Thorin wanted to kick himself for even talking. His voice hadn't been raised, nor had his tone been accusing, but knowing what he did about the boy's life at the orphanage, his words alone had been enough to frighten Bilbo, and Thorin should have known better.

Dwalin could feel the lad trembling in his lap, and he pulled him closer against him, petting his hair and gently shushing him in his ear, sending a half-hearted glare at Thorin. He knew his One hadn't meant anything by his remark, certainly no harm, but he couldn't help but feel a wave of protectiveness overcome him when he saw the lad in that state, even if it meant protecting the boy from his lover.

Thorin gently stood up, cringing when he saw Bilbo flinch at his movement. Coming closer, he dropped to his knees so he could be at eye level with the fauntling.

He dropped the hand that had been ready to go to the boy's shoulder when he heard Bilbo whimper in fright. 'Bilbo,' he whispered. 'Bilbo, would you look at me, lad, please?'

Bilbo burrowed deeper in Dwalin's chest, one tiny hand holding for dear life on the dwarf's forearm, the other scrunching in his tunic, but still, hesitatingly, courageously, the boy lifted his head to look at Thorin.

'You aren't in any trouble, lad. No punishment will come your way. I was simply curious as to why you were quietly trying to stuff your trousers’ pockets with the breakfast biscuits that were left on your plate.'

Dwalin frowned at that. He hadn't realised that Bilbo was doing any of it. Though that was probably because he was too preoccupied with getting them in his stomach as quickly as possible.

Bilbo bit his lip before answering softly, still afraid that his answer would get him a beating. 'I-I-I thought I'd keep them for later. So I would have th-them if I was hu-hungry. B-but I'll put them back, Ma-Master Thorin.'

Bilbo's hands were trembling as he gently put the couple of biscuits he had managed to get in his pockets back on his plate.

Thorin sighed, realising what had happened, and shook his head. 'You keep them, Bilbo. I wouldn't want you to be afraid to be hungry at any time. But I can promise you that we will give you as many meals as necessary. And I want you to tell either Dwalin or myself if you are ever hungry. Can you do that for me, Bilbo?'

Bilbo hesitatingly nodded his head, before quickly stuffing the biscuits back into his pockets.

 

Once breakfast was eaten, Bilbo slowly got off the bear-dwarf's lap and went back to his previous position at the window, silently watching the snow fall. He hadn't had the occasion to do so since he had lost his parents. Though it had snowed too, when he had been at the orphanage, he either was too busy with chores or too tired to enjoy the simplest of pleasures, like he remembers doing with his parents. He remembers his Mother telling him that it was a tradition in the Took family, to watch the first snowfall, at least for a bit, before going back to one's daily occupations. All that was missing right now was a cup of warm cocoa that his Father had made, adding a drop of some kind of alcohol to both his parent's mug when he thought Bilbo wasn't looking.

Behind him, he heard the shuffle of heavy bodies moving, then mumbling in a strange, harsh-sounding tongue. Not turning around, as to not make the dwarrows aware that, though he could not understand them, he could still hear them, he wondered if they were going to leave him behind now, or give him back to the orphanage. After all, he'd been greedy, and he'd always been punished severely when he'd kept some food for later when he was with the Men. Stealing was bad, he knew that. And though Master Thorin had said it was alright, maybe it was just so that he could punish him later, when Bilbo felt safe. The Master had done that too from time to time. Reveled in punishing him when he had been unaware that it was coming. Bilbo had quickly started to expect punishment at any time for any reason, it was easier that way. He didn't want to go back. Especially not now when he'd had a taste of freedom, as short as it had been.

Bilbo frowned at the white landscape outside the window. It was a bitter thought, the one that this would be the last he would see of the snow falling, without the threat of being beaten because he was slacking his duties. Bilbo nearly thought it would have been better if the dwarrows had not taken him out at all, instead of giving him a taste of freedom before taking it all away again. Though he had missed a lot of things since he'd been at the orphanage, his memories where dimming, things less bright and clear. Now he would have this memory again, of warm arms holding him, of a full plate filling him, of a comfortable room and bed to sleep in, of simply resting and not always being too cold. Maybe dwarrows were cruel like that? Bilbo shook his head. He didn't want to believe ill of the dwarves that had freed him and fed him, especially not his bear-dwarf, as scary as he seemed on the outside. And he could understand that though they had had good intentions, they did not want to keep a thief in their midst. It was his own fault really. He'd risked his own freedom for the sake of a couple of cookies, because he'd been afraid to be hungry again. He wouldn't blame the dwarves, no he wouldn't.

Bilbo shivered in dreaded anticipation, imagining all the kinds of punishment the Master would take pleasure in administering to him once the man had Bilbo in his grasp again. It wouldn't be pleasant. Though maybe it would be the punishment that would go too far? Bilbo physically shrugs at the thought. There had been a few close calls now and again, and no infractions had been as bad as running away. Bilbo thinks it would actually be for the best. After all, if he had to go back, what future would await him except hunger, labour and beatings? It would make everything much better, Bilbo knows. And maybe he'd get to see his parents again? Maybe once he'd be in the Fields of Yavana he would get to enjoy all the traditions he remembers from when he had a family.

Bilbo only realises that he had been crying silently when a roughened hand wipes his tears away. He'd been so focused on this bleak thoughts that he hadn't heard his bear-dwarf approach him, a feat in itself for Master Dwalin didn't seem to be able to move without making a ruckus. Bilbo tilted his head up, only to see the dwarrow frowning down at him, eyes full of what seemed like concern.

'What's the matter, lad? You alright?'

Bilbo nodded, biting his lip and averting his eyes, tucking his chin in.

 

Dwalin sighed at Bilbo's reaction. Carefully, he sat down next to the fauntling on the window seat, lifted Bilbo onto his lap, and tucked his against his chest, gently petting his head.

'Ye know, you can talk to me if ye want. You don't have to keep all yer thoughts inside that big head of yers. We won't hurt ye.'

He felt the lad nod against him, but he was still tense, and Dwalin was given the impression that Bilbo still didn't trust him. Not surprising, considering the lad's past, but he wondered what was going through his head for the boy's mood to shift like that. He'd thought they got along well. But it was like the boy had shut down once more.

They stayed in silence after that. Dwalin gently holding Bilbo and trying to make things better without words.

 

Bilbo was conflicted. Though he'd squeaked when his bear-dwarf had unceremoniously dumped him on his lap for a cuddle, he hadn't felt the need to struggle like he usually did when anyone tried to get physical with him, it hadn't even passed through his mind that he might be in danger of a beating. He'd went willingly. He felt safe in the bear's arms. Protected. Cared for. He didn't want to feel that way. It would just hurt more when push came to shove and he'd have to watch them walk away from him. He didn't want to leave them. He liked his dwarves. Still, he stayed where he was, silently basking in the affection, even if he knew he was just bracing himself for more sorrow.

He'd been quiet for some time, before he realised that the other dwarf, Master Thorin, who reminded him of a wolf as much as Master Dwalin was a bear, was missing.

'Where'd Master Thorin go?' He mumbled in the dwarf's chest.

He felt more than heard the bear chuckle. 'He's gone out on an errand. He should be back shortly.'

Bilbo frowned. That didn't sound reassuring. So he probed further. 'What errand?'

'That's a surprise, lad.'

Bilbo felt himself grow cold, then numb. Well, that was that, then.

He used to love surprises when his parents were alive. After they'd died, he had quickly learned to hate them. It was a surprise that had led him to the orphanage in the first place. And once he'd been there, surprises had always led to more beatings, or several different forms of punishments. He shivers remembering a notable case of him starving in his closet for a week. Bilbo shifts, uneasy, when he feels Master Dwalin hold him tighter, mistaking his shiver of fear for one of cold.

Maybe he could find a way to run away? Surely they wouldn't be bothered to go after him if they were planning on getting rid of him anyway? After all, he would be making it easier for them, Bilbo thinks. Glancing over his bear's shoulder, Bilbo frowns at the snow. His clothes wouldn't protect him from the cold, and his biscuits wouldn't last long. Though he could eat the snow to have water and he might find a few berries. But the cold... He'd freeze during the night. Bilbo wonders if he'd feel it. Would it be peaceful, to die freezing as he sleeps? Certainly, it seems less painful that dying because of a broken rib puncturing his lung. Bilbo internally shrugs, as to not disturb his bear. He doesn't want to go back to the orphanage. And better take the option out of their hands, and take it upon himself to run away, rather than to have to see someone else abandon him once more.

Seemed like he was going to take things into his own hands, then. He might not make it very far  or even alive, but at least it would be his choice. Better to try and risk it, than to do nothing and be faced with the certainty of a painful, both physically and emotionally, future.

Bilbo really hated surprises.


	6. Bells

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, life has a way at surprising you.

Bilbo had finally fallen asleep in Dwalin arms, his little body exhausted, going limp and burrowing as deep as it could in the heat that radiated from the dwarf.

Dwalin had sighed and went to put the boy in bed, but as he had wanted to let go, the lad's grip had tighten around him, whimpering. Dwalin hadn't had the heart to force the issue and had simply taken the boy back in his arms and had quietly rummaged through their bags to find a length of sturdy fabric that was usually used as a tarp. Sitting down on the bed, Dwalin had managed to fold it in half, lengthwise, without the fauntling falling off. Then again, Dwalin supposed, as strong as the lad's grip was, there was little chance for him to slip. Once folded, he strapped the fabric around him and the boy, as he'd seen Dis and other dwarrowdams do with their dwarflings. He remembered Vili and Thorin had both taken do that too with Fili and Kili. Gloin and Bombur often did that too with their young ones too. Dwalin had never seen another race do the same, though he thinks he might have spied a hobbit lass walking their babes that was, but as dwarrows were such a craft oriented race and as rare as their dwarrowlings were, none that was blessed with one was wont to leave them in the hand of someone else, even if close family always had an important role in rearing the little ones. The slings were the easiest for any dwarrow to be as close to their youngs as needed and still be able to go about their activities with both hands free. He'd seen enough lucky parents busy at their crafts with dwarrowlings strapped on their backs. It made everyone happy all around and made it easier for dwarrowdams to breastfeed.

Once he had Bilbo securely strapped at his chest, he went about the room, stroking the fire as needed, repacking their bags and even went down to the tavern to ask for lunch to be brought up later in early afternoon. And during it all, Bilbo slept on peacefully.

When Thorin came back from his errands, a bundle under his arm, it was to find Dwalin sharpening his axes with a sleeping hobbit strapped against his chest. Thorin had to stop and admire the view of his One, looking for all the world to see like a proud father showing off his babe while at his craft. And what a sight for sore eyes that was indeed.

Thorin quietly approached Dwalin, dropping his bundle on the bed before swooping down to give his One a kiss and gently push the sleeping fauntling's hair from his face. The little lad seemed so peaceful and calm. A change from when he was awake, seeming always full of energy and surrounding sadness.

Dwalin put Grasper and Keeper away, satisfied with their sharpness, and Thorin let himself sit next to his dwarf, both of them basking in the calmness of the moment, content at this time to simply stay quiet and sharing heat and closeness.

Bilbo snuffled awake, burrowing in the heat that radiated from what must be a furnace. It was nearly uncomfortable, but he'd been so cold all the time, that he let himself appreciated the feeling of too much. Rare as it was.

Blinking, Bilbo was surprised to find himself face-to-face with a tunic covered chest (would that be face-to-chest, he wondered?), before he remembered that he'd fallen asleep in his bear-dwarf's arms.

Looking around, he realised that both his dwarves were resting on the bed, against the headboard, whispering softly to each other, their combined heat engulfing him. And although he could feel their arms holding him, he realised that it was not their arms holding him in place against the bear-dwarf's chest, but a sort of sling.

Bilbo bit his lips as, unbidden, a forgotten memory of being strapped to his mother's back of front rose to the forefront of his mind. And like then, he felt safe and loved. He sniffed, trying hard not to cry.

'You awake, lad?'

Bilbo nodded, rubbing his eyes with his fists.

'You want to go down?'

Bilbo shook his head. No, he really didn't. If they were going to send him back, he was going to take advantage of every moment before then.

Bilbo felt a roughened hand card through his hair, and closing his eyes, he couldn't stop himself from leaning into the touch. 'Are you hungry?'

Bilbo hummed. He was indeed, though he thought he could wait a bit. He really didn't want to move from his position.

Once again, Bilbo felt more than heard the deep chuckle from the bear. 'You can stay here if you want, no need to get down.'

Bilbo opened his eyes to peer at the dwarf, finding him smiling down at him. Bilbo vaguely wondered if his bear-dwarf was a wizard, that he could read his mind like that.

Bilbo felt the bed move as Master Thorin stood, then it dipped again a few moments later. He was presented with an appetising looking sandwich, think bread with slices of roast beef and cheese, with what smelled like mustard and some tomatoes. Wrapping his hands around it, he moaned at the taste. It was simple, but he hadn't had something so good and rich in taste in a long time. The sandwich was gone in an instant and he was surprised to see another one presented to him before he could swallow his last mouthful. 'You better try and eat more slowly, lad. We don't want you to get sick.'

Bilbo nodded and did just that, savouring the second sandwich and relishing in the different flavours and contrasts.

After that, a glass of milk was gently put in front of his lips and he gulped it down greedily, before finally munching happily on an apple.

Both dwarrows laughed, ruffling his hair, when to his embarrassment, he let out a mighty burp once he was finished.

Dwalin knew he was nearly glowing in happiness. He couldn't stop grinning even if he tried, which he wasn't. With his One next to him, in a warm room and with good food, with a little one strapped around him, he couldn't find a thing he didn't like. Selfishly, he hopped that there wouldn't be any family left in the Shire to take away Bilbo. He wanted, more than anything in that moment, to be able to take Bilbo back to Ered Luin with them and to raise him as his own. The tyke was anything he could want for in child and he knew that the lad would prosper with the proper care. Still, he would do his duty and bring the lad back to the Shire, hope or not, and they would make sure that Bilbo was properly looked after before they left him in the hands of hobbits. They wouldn't take the risk of seeing Bilbo abused or ignored again. And if the hobbits couldn't do that, they would do it themselves, with great pleasure. It would break his heart more than just a he was comfortable with to leave little Bilbo behind, but he would do it nevertheless if it meant that the boy could be well taken care of by his kin and surrounded by family.

He sighed quietly, and smiled, if a little sadly, to his One. Things would work out in the way the Maker wanted it to, they always did.

Thorin gave an answering smile, knowing without Dwalin having to tell him, what his One was thinking. Though perhaps not to the same degree than Dwalin, Thorin was already attached to the fauntling too, and leaving him behind would hurt, but taking the lad with them without even trying the Shire was unthinkable, honourless.

Thorin gently squeezed Dwalin's hand in his, silently supporting him. It would be hard for both of them.

He stayed quiet for a while, listening to the gentle noise of Bilbo's breathing as the boy basked in Dwalin's warmth.

'Bilbo?'

There was a hum from where the lad was burrowed in the sling and Thorin couldn't hide his grin. 'Would you like to see the surprise I got for you?'

That got Bilbo's attention. He shuffle around a bit so he could poke his head out of the sling and look at Master Thorin, a frown marring his features. He bit his lips before he answered. 'What kind of surprise is it?'

He couldn't help but sound suspicious. After all, there was a fair chance that all this was a trick and that the surprise would be a one way trip back to the orphanage.

He cringed slightly when he saw the dwarf's brow wrinkle in confusion at his tone.

'The package is there, on the bed, if you want to open it.'

Bilbo followed the dwarf's gaze and indeed saw a bundle of a considerable size waiting on the bed not too far away from him.

'For me?' He asked somewhat perplexed. What ever could that be? And why would they give him anything if it was to be taken back to the orphanage anyway.

Bilbo bit his lip harder, trying not to let himself get his hopes up, but even as he tasted blood, he could feel warmth spread to his heart.

'Yes, Bilbo, lad. For you.'

Bilbo scrambled out of the sling, with some help from his bear-dwarf and nearly landed face first on the bed in his excitement. He crawled closer to the parcel and tugged it to him, looking back and forth between it and his dwarrows. He finally started to open it when his bear-dwarf gave him an encouraging nod and smile.

Bilbo gasped as he saw what was inside the bundle. Staring wide-eyed at the contents before reverently taking them out.

Dwalin and his One observed, chest tight, their little Bilbo take out the clothes one by one. He didn't know exactly how Thorin had managed to get them all in the span of one morning, but managed it he had. Bilbo was now in possession of two sets of warm travel clothes as well as a warm winter cloak and a set of knitted scarf, hat and gloves.

Dwalin swallowed hard when he saw Bilbo looking back at Thorin with awe, clutching his new clothes tight to his chest, as if afraid they would be taken away at any moment.

Dwalin felt his heart flutter as Bilbo, still holding the clothes, crawled onto Thorin's lap and held him tight. But he frowned as he started to hear the lad sob, head buried in Thorin's tunic.

'Bilbo, my lad,' he said as he gently petted Bilbo's hair. 'What's wrong?'

When Bilbo answered, his voice was muffled and raw. 'You're not going to send me back?'

Dwalin was silent as the faunt's words sank in.

'Of course not, lad!'

Bilbo turned around, still on Master Thorin's lap, to look at Master Dwalin. 'Even though I stole food?'

Bilbo saw the bear-dwarf blink and frown, and felt the wolf one hold him tighter.

'You didn't steal, Bilbo. What was on that plate was yours, and you could do whatever you wanted with them. That includes putting some biscuits in your pockets for later.'

Bilbo swallowed hard. 'Really?'

Dwalin sighed and cupped the lad's cheek. 'Really.'

He laughed as his answer was rewarded with a lapful of hobbitling. Gently, bringing Bilbo closer and lifting him in the air.

'How 'bout you try your new clothes on, aye?'

And the soft tinkling laugh of Bilbo, happy bells ringing and echoing in the room, was the best sound Dwalin had ever heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go, another chapter. With a happier ending than the last one, eh? ;)  
> Hope you liked it!  
> As always, not beta'd.  
> Have no idea where I'll be going with the next chapter.  
> Though it might come quicker, as I'm happy to say that I have found a job and a flat, so things are looking up on the RL side of things. :) And I have the next week off before I start to work, and a much better internet connection, and a more peaceful environment, so it should help my muse.


	7. Wrapping paper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nice afternoon out in the snow.

Dwalin had been surprised that the lad hadn't torn the wrapping paper when he'd opened the parcel. Even the ever neat Ori was one to go through the paper as quickly as possible to be able to see what he'd been gifted with. Yet Bilbo had taken the utmost care with the wrapping, making sure not to damage it. Dwalin had even spied the lad folding it neatly before putting it away in one of the pockets of his new tunic. He pondered why the boy had done it. He supposed that with Bilbo's history, the painfully slow and careful unwrapping made sense. But the fact that he hadn't discarded it afterwards was curious. Dwalin would have to find a way to ask the lad in a manner that wouldn't make Bilbo fear he'd done something wrong. Which was a challenge in and off itself.  

Laughter brought Dwalin out of his musings. Turning around, he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Bilbo was laughing, lying in the snow, his arms outstretched and moving up and down in the thick layer of white powder.

Thorin was chuckling, looking down at the fauntling fondly.

‘What are you doing, lad? You’re going to get snow everywhere.’

Bilbo stilled and bit his lip, uncertain, before he noticed Thorin was smiling widely. Then the lad stood up and ran towards Thorin, taking him by the hand and shaking it up and down enthusiastically as his body did little hops in place.

‘Snow angels!’ was the exclaimed answer. ‘Come, Mister Thorin, you must do some with me!’ and with that, the lad gave a hard tug to Thorin’s arm to make him come with him.

Unfortunately for Thorin, he hadn’t been expecting it, nor the strength the boy seemed to have in his excitement. Thorin also had always been a little clumsy on anything other than rock, and especially in snow. It was why, instead of simply following the lad’s movement, Thorin ended up sprawled on the ground, spluttering snow, a fierce scowl on his face and his cheeks red in embarrassment.

Dwalin roared in laughter, never one to resist laughing at the expenses of Thorin’s clumsiness but stopped abruptly as he realised Bilbo sat on his rump in the snow next to Thorin, having lost his balance when Thorin fell, looking like a rabbit caught by a wolf waiting to pounce.

Bilbo radiated fear so much that Dwalin had to ignore the urge to take the lad in his arms to reassure him, as he was quite certain the fauntling would bolt at the first movement.

Instead, he waited with bated breath to see how Thorin would make things better.

Thorin’s scowl evened out as he realised the laughter had died down and that the usual teasing from his One following a case of clumsiness wasn’t coming. He turned his head to look at Dwalin only to see him staring to the side. Following his gaze, Thorin finally understood what the issue was. Shaking his head, he turned on his side so he was facing the lad, a small smile tilting his lips.

‘Well, lad, now that I’m covered in snow anyway, why don’t you show me how to do those snow angels you told me about, hm?’

Bilbo kept stock still, clearly unsure if it was a trick or genuine. Biting his lower lip, he finally moved, looking from Dwalin to Thorin several times, taking stock of the fond smile and warm eyes that were on both dwarrow’s face. Finally seeming to decide that he was in no imminent danger, Bilbo’s eyes lit up once again and he scrambled to stand and encircle Thorin’s neck with his little arms, hugging him for the briefest of moments before going to an undisturbed spot of snow. Thorin got up and followed the boy leisurely, sending a smirk to Dwalin, as if to say ‘I always had this under control’, Dwalin’s answer was to snort loudly, clearly unimpressed, owning him a brief glare from his lover before Thorin went back to concentrate fully on Bilbo.

 

They stayed out in the snow for a couple of hours more, during which Bilbo managed to get Dwalin to do snow angel with both of them, as well as build three snowmen, two of which looked suspiciously like dwarrows, and the other like a fauntling.

When they came back to the inn, Bilbo was sent to have a warm bath, his clothes set up to dry and a hearty broth asked for all of them to eat dinner.

It wasn’t long before Bilbo was gently snoozing in Dwalin’s lap, stomach full and comfortably warmed by the fire in the hearth.

 

Gently, Thorin picked him up and put him in the second bed that was in the room, making sure to cover him properly, might he catch a chill, then proceeded to blow most of the candles in the room, leaving it mostly in the dark, save for one lonely candle on the dining table and the fire on the opposite wall.

Thorin went to Dwalin, still sitting in his chair and draped his arms around his broad shoulders from behind, letting his cheek rest on his lovers partially shaved head.

‘Days like this makes me want to be selfish and not give him back,’ he murmured softly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping lad.

Dwalin only hummed in answer, squeezing his arm gently.

‘Though the thing to do would be to bring his to his kin, I think I’ll selfish enough to ask him what he wants, instead of imposing the choice on him… Letting him know that the option is there, if he wants it...’

Thorin wasn’t ashamed to admit, to himself, that his voice was only a whispered not only because he didn’t want to wake Bilbo, but because he was afraid that the boy wouldn’t care about having the option or not once reunited with his kin.

He sighed wistfully, before letting go of Dwalin.

They made arrangement for the next day, wanting to not stay too long in Bree, then went to bed, neither really wanting for morning to come, as it would mean being closer of the inevitable separation.

 

The next morning, Dwalin woke up the soft snores of his One and the soft scratch of writing on paper.

As carefully and discreetly as possible, Dwalin turned on the bed to face the direction the noise was coming from. Eyes half mast to not make the boy aware that he was awake, Dwalin observe, a gentle smile on his lips.

Bilbo was sitting on the floor next to the hearth, wrapping paper in front of him and gently drawing on it with a piece of burned wood from the dead fire. Dwalin now had an answer as to why Bilbo had been so carefull with the wrapping paper and he made a mental note to take the time to find some proper drawing and writing materials along the way.

Ori would be delighted to have someone to teach and share his craft other than his old brother Balin. And Bilbo would. It might not come to pass, but Dwalin refused to think of it until the time came. Up to that moment, Bilbo was coming with them back to Ered Luin, end of story.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead... Let's have dinner?  
> Or in this case, have a chapter! (as usual not beta'd, please point out any mistakes you see)  
> Hope you like it. I'll try (but no guarantee, as I now have a full time job, will shortly be starting full time studies and I'll also be concentrating on original writing) to update this story more or less regularly (and not leave six month between updates like this).
> 
> Also, I thought I should probably give you some info about the age of everyone and my headcanon about age (that is actually mostly from the Dwarrow Scholar).
> 
> Age comparison between race:  
> Hobbit: 05/10/20/33/47/52/059/067/075   
> Dwarrows: 10/20/30/40/70/90/110/130/150  
> Men: 03/06/13/21/30/33/038/043/048
> 
> Story is set in TA 2900, and the age of the characters are all from book canon, so the following is the age they all would have had that year if Tolkien had made them meet then. For the characters where we weren't given ages/DOB, I went with what I felt right:  
> Bilbo: 10   
> Thorin: 154   
> Dwalin: 128 & Balin: 137   
> Fili: 41 & Kili: 36 & Dis: 140  
> Bifur: 112 & Bofur: 93 & Bombur: 85   
> Dori: 114 & Ori: 55 & Nori: 96   
> Gloin: 117 & Oin: 126 & Gimli: 21
> 
> Age at Smaug attack in TA 2770:  
> Thorin: 24   
> Balin: 7   
> Dis: 10   
> Frerin: 19 (died at 48 in TA 2799)
> 
> To give you an idea of how I visualise Dwarrows age, I've used the Dwarrow Scholar info, which is the closest thing I feel is canon, at least for me:  
> They are 'battle ready' at 30, so that more or less 13 for Men and 20 for Hobbits. Hobbits don't fight nor do they have an army, so let's put them away for a bit and go directly to the Men. In this time and age 13 is very young to imagine a child being battle ready, but as Middle Earth is more or less the Medieval times, 13 is the age where boys were considered to be old enough to fight but not old enough to be considered adults. So there you have it.  
> They come of age at 40, like Hobbit do at 33 and Men at 21. And though they are technically of age no one from any race would consider them adults at that age, not really anyway. Like when we turn 18 now, no one really expects us to act like adults (well okay, some do, you get what I mean).  
> Real adulthood starts when they get around 70, for Dwarrows that means being able to start making a name of their own and going on quest in their own name and not their fathers and keeping what they gain from it, it also means leaving home and getting married. This would be around 30 for Men and 47 for Hobbits, though these two races don't have the same social inner workings, so they often do that earlier than that age, mostly because of the big difference in lifespan between them and Dwarrows. But usually Dwarrows would marry and have children between their 90s and 120s, which would be between 52 and 60 something for Hobbits and 33 and 40 something for Men, and that's getting a bit old for them.  
> Then Dwarrows enter old age at around 240 and then anyone from the other race is dead unless they are Dunedain...


End file.
